Past Lives
by planet p
Summary: AU; a random past life fic, I guess.


Sille pressed anxious, shaking fingers to her brow, turning to meet her husband's eyes. It was late. She'd finished the washing up half an hour ago; Pax had been asleep for hours. "I don't want you to go this time, Walter. The children at school have been regaling Pax with their dreadful horror stories. She's scared half out of her mind, afraid you won't come back to us." She let her hand slide from her forehead, leaning back against the kitchen sink exhaustedly. "Please, Walt. Stay. Don't go this time. There are other jobs. I'll get more hours. We'll make do. Please stay."

Walt sighed. "Sille, our brothers and sisters are at war."

"But we are not!" she whispered desperately, eyes wide, urgent in her face. "This is not _our_ war, Walter!"

"It is our planet, our people. It is intolerable. Those of us who can, must make this stop. This sheer destruction is evil, Sille. The day will come when the destruction will wash upon our shores, also; when our children will no longer tell their awful stories because they will no longer simply be stories; they will have become real for every one of us. I cannot stand by, Sille. For our daughter's sake, I cannot. I must use this gift the Universe has bestowed upon me; fulfil my duty."

Sille shook her head sadly, tears filling her eyes. She knew she couldn't reach her husband when he was like this. She fled the kitchen, slipping into their daughter's bedroom, cloaked in semi darkness. She just hoped their child hadn't inherited Walter's "gift".

When they had been married, she'd loved him for the strength of his convictions, for always following through on what he said, but now... now she was tired, washed-out. She just wanted things to go alright again, for all of them. This was not how she'd seen her future playing out.

Walter appeared outside the door. "Sille." He held out his hand to her, silently beseeching her to take it.

She stayed where she was, standing resolutely, stiffly beside her little girl's bed, tears blurring up her eyes. Maybe it was time for her to move on. She'd always laughed at the girl's in school when they'd told her their stories, when they'd said sometimes you had to let love go, no matter how strong your boy seemed to have got a hold on your heart, because some boys loved themselves more than they loved anyone else and nothing could change that, not even the love of a wonderful, loving girl. She'd always thought them mean, heartless, cold. Gullible to their own selfish lies. But she saw it so clearly now, how wrong she'd been to laugh at them.

Walter did not understand; he wasn't like her. He believed the Universe loved him as much, if not more, than even his own wife and daughter loved him. He was "special", so loved. And that kind of love commanded obedience. He believed he had a right neglecting his loved ones for "the greater good", but her people did not believe this. Not at all. She was a fool and her beloved Walter an idealist fool. They had both been so foolish, each believing the other would be the one to offer the best support for both of their dreams, and if that support just so happened to include a little comfort and a little fun, then weren't they lucky to have found one another. But now they had a daughter, and she needed love too.

But Walter was thinking of his other love. As he always did.

"If you leave, Walter, you'd better be leaving for good, because there will be no more room for you in this family when you return. If you leave, you will be leaving your wife and daughter."

"Sille, you don't understand," he reasoned sadly.

She brushed her tears from her face with unsteady hands. "No, Walter," she told him, "you are the one who does not understand."

Walter gave a heavy sigh and walked away, disappearing from view.

Sille sucked in a shaky breath. She couldn't believe this was happening! Couldn't believe Walter had turned his back on his family, on her – and for what? For some people he didn't even know!

In the lounge room, Walter sunk down onto the sofa, reaching for the comm, but he just held it in his hand. Sille wasn't playing it up, wasn't merely acting out because he'd been spending so much time at work, because she felt unloved, uncared for. She was very serious and he knew it, but he couldn't give up on his work. It was not just his work, was not merely for he and Sille, for their child; it was the Universe's work, it was for all the children of this world, whatever their species may be. For the future.

He and the people he worked with did not participate in the war, they merely helped the people affected after the fact. Were they doing wrong? He couldn't see how that could be so, yet his wife had just handed him an ultimatum: your family, or your work; love, or the future? He couldn't make a choice like that, couldn't even begin to formulate a response.

He set the comm down and sat back, closing his eyes to the high ceiling of their stylish, exclusive company apartment. If Sille and he disavowed their union, she and Pax would no longer be entitled to live here, would have to make other arrangements, find other, cheaper accommodations. He did not want his family living in poverty, enduring that kind of hardship. He'd only ever wanted happiness for them. Before today, he'd always assumed they understood that, he'd always assumed they understood that was what his work was about. Happiness, peace. A place for all on this planet. For love.

He was hurt, yet he knew Sille must be hurting too. She'd always been an understanding, caring woman. When they'd first met, they'd both been helping out in the encampments on the other side of the river, where the land was desolate and poor, just as the people who roamed its colourless, drab plains that were sometimes dry as old bones, and sometimes awash with flood waters. Sille had struck him as not merely a welcoming ray of sunshine, but as a bright and shining star herself, fallen from the heavens to bring hope and light to the sad, cold earth.

And now she was the one cold and sad.

A tear slipped down his face. This is what he'd done to her, he thought. He'd sapped the life from her, sapped her love from her. He'd tried to tie her to him, desperate for her soft, warm love, and in doing so he'd maimed her, disfigured her, he'd ruined her. She'd never been born to be tamed, not even by love. His type of love was worlds from that of her people.

He sat forward and grabbed up the comm, realising now what he must do. His foolish heart be damned, he would be walking out that door – and he would not be coming back. Sille and Pax would get by, would still have each other, but if he stayed he would only end up hurting his little girl the way he'd hurt Sille, the woman he loved. If he stayed, he'd only be miserable, and his misery would destroy them all. So there was no choice.

He had to leave.

"Is Daddy coming in to wish me goodnight?" Pax asked sleepily, peering at her mother.

Sille touched her child's soft hair, her face sad but free of tears. "He was in earlier, precious. He said he wishes you sweet dreams and you shouldn't worry yourself over those other children and their mean tales."

Disappointment entered Pax's dark eyes, the eight-year-old suddenly wide awake. "You _told_ him!"

"Of course I told him, precious. He's your father. He doesn't want to see you hurting needlessly. Neither of us do. We love you very, very much."

The little girl sat up. "Is he going away again, Mummy?"

"I'm afraid so, darling."

"Why?"

Sille touched her throat. Beneath her hand, her heart thudded painfully, mournfully. "It's the right thing to do, my love." She crossed to the bed, laying a hand on her daughter's forehead. "You must go back to sleep, precious. It is late."

"Daddy hasn't said goodnight to me. I was asleep! It's not the same thing!" She sniffed. "Can you get Daddy?" Her eyes were hopeful.

Sille's heart broke. "Daddy had to go back in to work, precious. It was unavoidable. Mummy didn't want him to go, either. I'm sorry."

Tears swum in Pax's eyes and she lay down, turning her back on her mother.

Sille leaned over to rub her back consolingly, but Pax pretended not to notice. "Goodnight, baby," she whispered, and walked to the door, leaving it ajar when she left.

She didn't stop outside the lounge when she heard her husband on the comm, she just kept walking. She couldn't bear to hear his voice.

* * *

When Pax had been young, the War was just beginning. Since then, the War had grown to encompass the entire planet, and she had grown too. She was a woman now. A lieutenant. She was a good soldier, she'd been told.

Her mother and stepfather still lived in the city but she hadn't been back for many months. She'd been away on the campaigns. When she'd first announced her intention to join the army and fight for her country, her mother had cried, but Pax had not. The world was awash with the War; if you didn't fight, you died. Sooner or later, you were extinguished from the face of the Earth. Pax was not going to be put out. Not without putting up one hell of a fight!

The General returned and Pax left her remembrances of the past right where they belonged, in the past.

"The Others have arrived," the General told her. "We'll go out to inspect them. Keep those who are willing to co-operate, discard the rest."

The Others were not like them. They were strange creatures. They looked ordinary enough, but that was just their outward appearance. A clever ruse. Underneath their strange, wicked glamour, the Others were consort to all manner of trickery and deviousness, devilishness.

Whenever it came time to discard those who refused to co-operative, Pax did not feel sadness. She did not feel sympathy. She merely felt a great sense of pride, of having fulfilled her duty, no matter the personal costs.

If they did not discard those who refused to work with them, if they let them go, they could end up facing them again wearing the face of the enemy. That was not an option. Death was the only option.

Pax walked with her general to inspect the newcomers. When it came time to ask the inevitable question, Pax stood straighter and did her duty with pride. "Who will join us?" she asked.

These days, most could be persuaded with a minimum of fuss, not like in the old days, but some still thought they were doing the right thing by resisting. After that, it could get painful. Gory, even. Most turned then. Pax had never seen any who'd continued to resist after the first week of Persuasion.

Apparently she was due for a shake up. The Others that had been brought in this time were full of foolish hope and eager to resist, even when it brought pain. They seemed to find it romantic, noble. It hurt Pax's eyes, brought disgust swirling thick inside her. They were so stupid!

The General's "people" soon discovered the source of their hope. It was not the supporting, loving arms of the eternal and ever-present Universe that reached into even the darkest recesses of the farthest world. It was an Other, apparently one of their leaders. The General was not happy.

When they sat and ate lunch, the General shared his opinion that this one would not be turned. This one was trouble. If he was correct and this one continued to resist, they would have to discard him for sure, no matter the invaluable assist his "gifts" could bring to their army. He was a source of rebellious inspiration. If they were going to win the others, they would have to take out their leader. If luck were on their side, they would be able to offset the loss of the leader through the gain they found in the others.

"But we shook strike while the iron is hot," her general told her. "The scars of battle run deep, and they do not forget. If we do not turn them soon, they will never truly be ours. We must prove to them the senselessness of their rebellion. We must prove to them that their leader is not infallible; that none are too strong to be defeated." He glanced at her as he said this, at her in particular, though she was by no means the only other gathered at the table. "I would like to entrust this particular duty to you, Lieutenant. You are reliable and I know you will not let our people down."

She stood up, proudness welling in her like tears, shining. "It would be an honour, sir!"

He nodded, looking a little embarrassed. Or maybe Pax had imagined it, for a moment later the awkwardness was gone. Surely she'd imagined it. She'd been too abrupt, too eager. Whatever had transpired, she would do well to contain herself in future. She was a soldier, not an eager young beauty keen to attract adoring eyes. "Thank you, Lieutenant," the General said, and Pax thought she heard a little of his discomfort in his voice, but surely she was imagining that too. "You may resume your meal."

She sat down and continued on eating her lunch. Yes, she had definitely imagined it. Nobody else seemed to have noticed anything different about their commander. She wondered why it was she had. Perhaps her imagination was merely fantasy? Perhaps she'd gotten it into her head that the General's asking her to do this meant something more, more than the fact that she was lieutenant. She hoped not, but she was a female, and females were prone to such fantasies. To dreams of false love.

She quickly quashed the feeling, upset at herself. She wasn't like those females, she was as good as any man. As tough and unyielding in purpose as any man. A small part of her told her that even men fell under the spell of what they liked to call "love", but those were other men, other women. They were not lieutenants and soldiers. Love of their way of life, of their peoples' way of life, of their country, was the only love they needed, the only love they could afford. Any other sort of love was dangerous, ran the risk of compromising not only them but their whole unit, and through them, the outcome of the entire War.

She would not be the weak one. She would not be the one to lose the War for her people, her country. Her silly, flimsy love wouldn't mean a thing then.

The next day she was taken to see the Others. They had all been gathered in this place to observe what happened to those who refused, though Pax wished they hadn't. They made her nervous, their stares unsettled her. She was not Gifted as they were, and they could not be trusted. She had heard terrible, horrible stories.

She wasn't afraid, but she was certainly wary. She wasn't stupid enough to ignore the obvious threat they posed, but hopefully they would get around to sorting that out very soon.

The General joined her, and she was lead to the leader of this particular group of Others. Catching his gaze, she felt her heart stop clean. His eyes were the same as her eyes. Thankfully, her heart did not stay stopped, but went on beating once more. She did not let her moment of pause show. Did not whisper, misty-eyed, in some little girl's voice, full of hope, "Daddy!"

She stopped before the man and straightened to her full height, as she liked to do in situations that required mettle. "This is your last chance, Other," she told him, her voice carefully devoid of emotion. "Will you join us?"

"I am sorry," he said, and she felt anger rise in her faster, harder than she'd ever felt it do so before. It was uncomfortably painful. Forget about her gun, she wanted to beat him to death with her bare hands alone! How dare he speak to her that way, as if she were a helpless child! And then he said, "I cannot join you, precious child," and she raised her gun, pulled the trigger.

He dropped to the ground, dead. She didn't move, she glared at nothing. She was shaking stupidly.

The General frowned at her, and if she'd been a silly girl, she might have believed him quietly concerned.

She turned on her heel and walked out. Her father had died for her a long time ago. The man she'd just shot was not her father, he was a traitor!

And now he was a dead traitor.

Victory would be theirs some day, the sun would shine for the good some day, and every traitor they felled brought them one step closer to paradise. To justice.


End file.
